Cadavers, Lots and Lots of Cadavers

 

Before we get into the number of Cadavers afflicting me, I must confess, that after only 2 words in this blog, I had to use Spell Check.  That’s how smart my brain is today but, let’s be honest, ‘Cadaver’ is a tricky word – is it ‘ver’ or ‘vre’?   In American English it’s ‘ver’ in British and Canadian English it’s ‘vre’, so it’s no surprise that I find it difficult, along with ‘theatre’, ‘neighbourhood’ and ‘centre’.  And Spell Check is losing its damn mind right now, underlining most of the words in this paragraph in blood red.

But that’s not important right now.  Cadavers are important.  Namely, the cadaver/s that are in my car.  And I’m absolutely certain it’s cadavers because I was blessed with a cadaver in my bedroom a few years ago because a cat brought a mouse in the house, chased it around and then lost it behind a mirror in my bedroom.  It didn’t take long for maggots and then massive flies to create a fucking nightmare in my bedroom 6 weeks later.  I get faint just thinking about it, too.

Junior’s first car had a mouse die behind the fan and the smell was disgusting.  I was still married to Stanley and he had to take the fan out of the car to retrieve the holy stinker.  I’m sure he feels faint just thinking about it.

And then we had a mouse in our Fifth Wheel trailer.  We dragged the damn mouse all the way from Calgary to Arizona where it died.  What little sympathy I might have had for the little thing to die so far from home was quickly lost.  I thought it was smelly garbage.  We cleaned the entire trailer from top to bottom but still the smell smelled.  Then we found it under the sink and behind the water filter.  The Viking used a flipper to poke more smell out of it before he managed scoop it up and discard it…..and the flipper, too, because there is no way that flipper can be used for anything other than removing cadavers now.

So, knowing what I know about the smell of cadavers, my car has become a torture chamber.  We can’t find the cadaver to exhume it from the car and thus make my car safe for human habitation again.  We’ve look everywhere, sniffing like bloodhounds, under seats and behind door panels.  It’s not in the heating/cooling system either.  We put two cats in the car hoping they would point where the cadaver is but, being cats, they were more interested in being anywhere else than there.  So.  What. The. Fuck?!!

And then yesterday……..

……

……

……the smell was gone.  What does that mean?!!  Does it mean that maggots are preparing themselves to become an infestation of bloated black flies that will likely drive me completely and permanently insane?  Will they wait until I go for food and then hatch all at the same time while I’m driving which will make me exit the car immediately and without stopping, probably vomiting as I hit the pavement?  Would insurance even cover that? Or maybe it fell out when I was whistling along Stoney Trail?  I did hit a couple of good bumps that might dislodge a cadaver from the engine compartment.  Ideally, that would be the best outcome – leaving the cadaver to ferment in the middle lane of the freeway.

Unfortunately, I can’t be 100% certain that the cadaver is no longer my problem.  How long does it take for a mouse to turn into the minions of hell?  I’m sure Google can come up with something:

Eggs hatch within 24 hours, and house fly larvae emerge. House fly larvae, or maggots, appear similar to pale worms. Their sole purpose is to eat and store energy for their upcoming pupation. Larvae feed for approximately five days, after which they find dry, dark locations for pupal development.

Gawd!  I have to wait 3 more days for Hell?  Today is Friday, then Saturday and Sunday……..so sometime late Monday or Tuesday.  I won’t take any chances and will refuse to drive the car between now and then.  Sure, The Viking will snort at my sissy-ness but he’s not the one that will be engulfed in huge, disgusting, bloated flies in a confined space.  Just the thought makes me nauseous.

I’ll just have to steal The Viking’s truck – a one-ton dually.  He’s pretty good at protecting himself and his things because he was quite the wrestler back in the day, but I have been practicing Tai Chi.  It will be a face-off in the driveway, an aging wrestler and a sloppy Tai Chi-er.  And it would be prudent to stand about 10 paces apart, so no one gets hurt.  I’m not expecting this to be a lengthy undertaking.  Three moves each, with rests in between, so about a half hour.  There will be energy drinks on hand, so we stay hydrated and Cliff Bars to keep up our carbs.  Maybe an ambulance on standby or is that just a little over the top?

As for my car, if there is an infestation in the car, I’ll just have to burn it down to the axles.  Because if I’m honest, I’ll never feel the same about my car ever again.

I’m A Fucking Idiot!

I’m an idiot and my idiocy has taken me down the same damned black hole I’ve been in many times before.  You would think that I might have learned from the experience, but it seems not.  Even my horoscope tried to tell me not to meddle.  Did I listen?  Nope!  Because I’m a fucking idiot!

It happens like this:

  • Someone is crying like their heart has been broken into a million pieces.
  • I try to comfort with soft blankets, cookies, hugs and movies.
  • The crying subsides.
  • Being an observer from the sidelines, I try to encourage and empower.
  • They seem to appreciate the message.
  • They appreciate everything I’ve done.
  • They slide back into their situation, again.
  • I express concern.
  • They tell me that now I’m making them feel guilty which stresses them out more so they vow to avoid me for the foreseeable future.
  • I cry buckets for days until The Viking picks me up, dusts me off and helps me grieve.

And there it is.  The complete hot mess.  Someone goes happily on their way, stress-free, and someone hides in their closet for a week.  Repeat.

Except….FUCK THAT!!!  It’s time to start protecting my soul instead of throwing it out there for any dog to drag its ass on.

 

via GIPHY

I haven’t been able to write a damned post for over a month because I’ve been too invested in a bloody debacle that has catapulted me into a full-blown Depression.  And it’s affecting more than just a post – I’ve been bumping into walls and running stop signs as I’m frantically trying to find a solution that no one wants in the first place!

I’m sure there is a Life Coach out there that would tell me I’m not responsible for anyone else’s life, even if I created it years and years ago.  I can’t make their decisions, I can’t change their situations and I can’t solve their problems.  The only thing I can control is me and how I react to these situations.  At the end of every crisis, I’m always standing there like a fucking idiot as I’m being pushed out of someone’s life.  My inner voice is screaming “I thought we talked about this!  You weren’t going to help!  Gawd!  You’ve gone and shot yourself in the damned foot AGAIN!”  The outcome couldn’t be worse if I intentionally engineered it to be an epic failure.

The thing is…..this post isn’t about them at all……it’s about me and how I stupidly deal with these situations.  I’m here because I’m a fucking idiot that is always trying to help when that’s the last thing they actually want.  I’m my own worst enemy and I would be better served by keeping to myself and hope I never get that call in the middle of the night.

TRUTH BOMB:  Their life is exactly as they want it to be.  If they didn’t want their life to be the way it is, they would change it -with or without my help.  So, stop being a fucking idiot and leave them to figure out their shit.

Now, I’m moving forward, trying to put the whole steaming, foul mess out of mind.  I’m making a point of learning the lesson this time though.  No more attempts at assistance.  I promise.

I have no subject for an amusing post (sorry about that) because I haven’t found anything amusing for over a month.  But, I’ll get outside today, maybe take a walk.  I’ll attempt to distract myself and focus on The Viking and me.  Surely, I’ll feel better in a few days.  I’m already feeling better than last week.

Next post will be much less serious.  I promise.